


Be Kind, Rewind

by lindsey_grissom



Series: Crystal Heart [19]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>At the end of the Universe, sits Jack.  Every time.</i>  The final part of the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/3978">Crystal Heart</a> 'Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Kind, Rewind

It is a sensation not unlike Earth's wind. Similar, not the same, but even after all this time, after the many repeats of this act; he has found no better descriptor.

Every time, when the last black hole starts swallowing up the last of the Universe, he finds himself here. On the last remaining planet. The last remaining rock. The last remaining simulated atmosphere. And he, the last remaining life. It has a certain symmetry he has yet to grow weary of. That too, he supposes, is a last, for he has certainly grown weary of all else at least once. But not this.

This last moment before all of Time and Existence disappear. Again.

Because this isn't the first time this has happened and the one thing he is certain of; it will not be the last. He thinks that time will come, eventually, but not now.

Seconds, barely minutes, and everything will stop. And then restart.

He does not know how long it will take this time. Will it be longer? Shorter? There are no numbers to compare even if he could.

Time will stop. Cease. And no time, means no way to measure. It is an odd experience, but not unfamiliar. It is close to how he feels when returned to life after death. Without the pain.

Everything will stop. Nothing will exist but for darkness and then suddenly he will find himself sprawled on a rock, with a breathable atmosphere and a working Vortex Manipulator. Clothes too, though often he will notice subtle differences; they are not quite the same as the ones he wore before he stopped existing.

Something plays with him then. He has slowly come to enjoy the game.

Then he will be off. Back to the physical state he held after his very first Immortal act on that Games Station. And a whole new universe to be his oyster.

And they are new. Every time. Sometimes big differences, sometimes small, but the only constant is his own birth. Or lack thereof. For no matter how many times the Universe resets, how many parallel Universes he travels to, he exists only as himself.

It took a while to understand; many Universal rebirths, but understand he does.

A fixed point, one Doctor once told him. _His Doctor that one, always._ And he was right.

The Universe spins around him, in the quiet moments before sleep, he can feel it. Time holds him steady, makes wherever he is the present, anywhere else the future or the past. He can travel where and when he wants, doesn't need the wrist strap or a ship most days, but when he takes people with him, it seems to scare them less if he does.

He isn't even wrong anymore. And that is a welcome relief. Or it was, the first time he realised, still he often finds himself expecting that to change.

The Time Lords, every time now, know of his existence; he has become a part of the facts of Time and Space, like the Vortex itself. They accept him, Immortality and all, and still every Doctor is drawn to him.

The Fact and the Fiction, as he likes to call them, because ultimately that is what they always become.

Subtle differences. A female Doctor instead of Male. Blue Earth trees instead of Green. A head in a jar, or an eye in a box. Every time he finds something to laugh about.

Sometimes he will interfere; he knows now that Timelines aren't always set the way _his_ Doctor always said, but he pretends that they are. Sometimes he lets them carry on without him, an observer nothing more. Invariably, these are the shortest Universal existences.

He falls in love. Falls in hate. Lives. Dies. Lives again. And it is fresh and new and exciting and so very, very _Fantastic_.

And sometimes he feels so old, he doesn't know if he can live another day. But of course he does, and another, and another and the feeling fades away.

So he doesn't fear the black hole, all of two feet away. Doesn't fear the darkness.

Because it never lasts; light always pulls him back. And life? Well life just keeps on living.

It's a fact.

 

**End.**


End file.
